Bare Bones
by Chya
Summary: While the rest of the Andromeda crew look for a man's lost son, Rhade goes missing. S5. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Self-beta'd so all mistakes belong to me.

This takes place somewhere in Season 5. Don't ask where, it really doesn't matter.

I wish I owned Andromeda, especially TRhade. But I don't.

Thanks to JillyW for saying nice things.

Most literary prose type quotes all from Khalil Gibran.

XXXXX

Bare Bones

By Chya

"Hey, big man," a low sultry voice called from the depths of a doorway.

Dylan barely glanced towards her, shaking his head as he walked. "Not today thank you." He was somewhat taken aback when the slim, pasty faced woman skipped out of her doorway to block his path. Haunted brown eyes with dark circles stared up at him, completely at odds with the attempted sexy smile from bright red painted lips.

"So, when's good for you, big guy?" she asked, pressing into him.

Dylan gently pushed her out of the way. "I'm sorry but you're just not my type."

She grabbed his hand and, skipping backwards, tried to pull him down the alley next to the doorway she had been standing in. "If not me, then one of my, ah, sisters?"

Her persistence was starting to annoy Dylan, and he snatched his hand away, raising both in a gesture meant to stop her. "Listen, I'm kind of busy at the moment, I need to be somewhere. I'm. Not. Interested. Find someone else."

Again he started to walk away, but then she was in front of him again, hanging on to the front of his jacket, all pretence of seduction gone as she urgently begged him. "He, they'll beat me if I don't bring someone, please, please…"

"Who will?" he asked, exasperation mixing with the need to help.

"Um," she kept a hold of his jacket with one hand, while she chewed on the nails of her other hand and cautiously peeked past Dylan back towards the alley. "Um, him." She pointed and he looked to see a thin, pale man looking around the corner at them before ducking back into the alley.

Dylan sighed, and disentangling the pale woman from his clothes, strode back to the alley. Beating up on a pimp wouldn't really accomplish anything, but it might make him feel better, and might buy her some time to run away or something. As he stepped into the alley, a glint of metal out of place was the only warning he got.

If his reaction times had been any slower, he would already be twitching on the ground from the force of the taser pointed his way. Several white faced and skinny individuals were scattered about the alley, the nearest one armed with the crackling taser. Dylan hopped back and picked up a barrel, throwing it at the taser man. The barrel smashed into crates, sending up clouds of white flour, but when the dust settled, the skinny individuals had gone, along with the woman who had accosted him.

"That was weird," he muttered to himself as he brushed the worst of the dust off his sleeves and he headed towards Harper's bar with just a quick, curious glance back at the alley.

XXXXX

Beka and Trance walked towards the bar together, the avatar laughing in her childlike manner as Beka cracked a joke. They reached the door as it slammed open, and Beka had to hop back to avoid having her nose broken. Somehow, she wasn't surprised when Rhade came staggering out, each arm around a different woman and all three of whom were clearly happily and extremely drunk.

"I take it you're not stopping to see what Dylan wants?" Beka called casually.

In a class of movement normally reserved for large unwieldy vehicles, the Neitzchean managed to swivel the three of them around in an uncoordinated circle to face Beka. "Today," he informed her, extricating one arm from the pouting blonde and wagging a finger at Beka, "is a celebration. I am celebrating. I haven't decided exactly what yet, but I am." The other woman, tall and dark, whispered something in his ear and he snorted. "I'll celebrate that!" he laughed, clearly distracted by her cleavage, and manoeuvred them around to stagger towards destinations unknown, presumably somewhere with a bed.

"Have fun, see you later." Beka rolled her eyes and held the door open for Trance who stood staring at Rhade with that puzzled expression she wore when considering something that might happen in the future, or not.

"You okay?" Beka asked.

"I'm not sure," said Trance. "That which doesn't kill him can only make him stronger and if he leaves now, they will surely try and kill him." She paused, and then suddenly smiled brightly. "I don't know why I said that."

"Um, you mean that those two, ah, ladies, will try and kill Rhade?"

"No, silly," Trance giggled. "They just want sex."

Beka looked after Rhade, and briefly wondered if she should be worried. But, he was a big boy, could look after himself and besides, if he was this drunk at lunchtime, then he'd be sure to turn up in the evening pretending not to be hung over and ready to hit the next bottle. Anyway, she had priorities; Dylan was about to sell her a proposition he couldn't pay for. Again.

XXXXX

"Mr Harper tells me that to make Andromeda achieve slipstream, he needs a… what did you call it?" Dylan asked the engineer.

"It's a phase inducing parasilicoid ignition coil with trans – "

"A glorified inductor coil." Beka interrupted. "I have spares on the Maru, can't you jury rig one of those?"

Looking quite put out at being interrupted, Harper assumed his most patronising tone. "Well actually miss smarty-pants the answer to that would be no. Not even my genius intellect could transform a rusty old inductor coil from an old salvage scow. Even a beautiful old salvage scow like the Maru," he added hastily, as Beka gave him a look to kill. "As I was saying not even the Harper could transform a, uh… standard inductor coil into a phase inducing parasilicoid ignition coil with trans-ferrous anodyne…" Dylan stared very hard at him. "For those of you not familiar with the term, an inductor coil for very large spaceships. The bit that makes the slipstream drive go Pow!" he finished off quickly.

"And this has exactly what to do with me?" Beka asked.

"Well, we've managed to locate one," Dylan said lightly.

"And this has exactly what to do with me?" Beka repeated.

"The current owner would like to trade for it." Dylan replied.

"I repeat-" began Beka

Harper snorted, impatient with the game between Dylan and Beka. "The old man won't give us the coil unless we find his son, who could be lost anywhere in the Seefra system, kinda like a needle in a haystack if you get my drift, impossible and unlikely to succeed. I think we should just steal it. Er, and give him some of Dylan's money later."

"And you want me to run around all the planets looking for him?" Beka asked. "I hope not, because that really is going to cost you. A lot. And your credit rating isn't the best."

"Not so much running around actually," Doyle spoke up. "Alec Althazar is pretty certain that his son is on Seefra 6 and that he will have got there by shuttle along with his crewmate."

"So you want me to cruise Seefra 6 at low level to try and pinpoint the shuttle." Beka's expression was still one of disbelief.

"Or yours truly can sweep for residuals that might indicate where a shuttle's crashed, landed or otherwise hidden away from prying eyes," Harper said.

"Okay, that's better," Beka nodded thoughtfully then looked at Dylan. "Still gonna cost you lots though."

"I'll put it on the tab." Dylan scanned the room. "So where's Rhade? He said he'd be here and we could certainly use the manpower, there's likely to be quite a few possible sites to cover."

"With a client," Harper and Beka said in tandem and looked startled at each other.

"Really?" Dylan said. "Was he sober? Ah no, don't answer that, I already know."

XXXXX

The familiar nagging headache roused Rhade from his post-coital doze, and he opened one eye cautiously. Blinding pain assaulted his optic nerve from the sunlight filtering through the bedroom window and he groaned, bringing a hand to his sore head. A small moan of protest brought his attention the dark woman curled up to his left, and he smiled as he recalled her incredible… agility. The blonde had her head on his chest, gentle snores blowing softly across his skin.

It was a shame to leave these two beauties, but needs must and he had a client to see once he'd cleared up his hangover with a small hair of the dog. He'd have to go back to the bar for his hip flask and a change of clothes which was slightly inconvenient, and he wouldn't normally bother but he needed to sharpen his senses and lift the fog before dealing with this particular client.

Levering himself off the bed, he paused to give each of the two protesting women a kiss and a word of appreciation, _"… if beauty be the food of dreams, this feast must last a thousand nights_…" before quickly dressing and sliding out of the door.

The suns were too bright and people too loud as he strode along the dusty road towards the bar.

Hey, big guy," a low sultry voice called from the depths of a doorway.

Rhade barely glanced towards her, shaking his head as he walked. "Later maybe."

But the slim, pasty faced woman hopped out of her doorway to block his way at the head of an alley. Haunted brown eyes with dark circles stared up at him, completely at odds with the attempted sexy smile from bright red lips.

"So, when's good for you, lover?" she asked, pressing into him.

"I told you," he pushed her firmly to the side by the shoulders. "Later."

She raised a hand to finger the bone blades on his right arm. "Special discount for Neitzcheans," she said, her eyes lighting up.

"Really," he said, not making any effort to disguise his impatience. "I'll bear that in mind."

He started to walk past the alley, but she gave a sharp cry. Reflexively he turned back towards her, his back to the alley.

If he'd hadn't been hung over, he would never have been so careless.

If he'd hadn't been hung over, his senses would have seen and heard the attack coming before the taser had even been drawn.

If he'd hadn't been hung over, his reflexes would have easily taken him out of danger and enabled him to take them down.

Before he could move, electricity shot through him, stopping him in his tracks, shocking muscles into uncontrollable rigours; eventually it stopped with shocking suddeness and his legs now incapable folded involuntarily beneath him to leave him shaking on hands and knees, trying to pull himself together.

"Well, hell," said a male voice somewhere above and to the left. "Will you look at that, he's still conscious."

Another male voice spoke up. "We'll see about that." More electricity stabbing eyeballs and eardrums, beating veins and arteries into submission and he could only stay on his knees and take it.

"Don't kill him!" shrieked the woman's voice, "We'll be well sorted if we take him alive!"

"I'm not going to kill him," the taser man said. "Just knock him out for a bit." And the shocking didn't stop until he did.

XXXXX

"This is a waste of time!" Beka complained yet again. "This planet is a junk heap and that's what we keep finding; junk heaps."

"One man's junk heap is another man's paradise," replied Harper watching the screen in front of him intently. "Just think of all the things I could do with this junk, I saw what looked like a telep – "

"Don't go there, Seamus!" Beka snapped. "You and junk are always trouble. And don't think I haven't noticed the bits you've been sneaking on board when you think I'm not looking."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, always on my case, but I don't see you complaining when it's the Harper has to pull your ass out of the fire _again,_ with bits of junk cobbled together in ingenious ways."

XXXXX

Through his throbbing head, Rhade tried to focus all his concentration on his lower arms. He was blindfolded and gagged, his feet hobbled, but he only needed his arms to be free as he'd estimated the length of rope between his feet to be around shoulder width apart. His kidnappers had tied him up with rope, which when done as badly as this was completely ineffective. Bone blades were not designed for slicing, but with patience, he could work the points of his lower blades through the knots.

There was an anger inside him on a long slow burn and he fully intended to use it against the little bastards. With two men and a woman, all three of them skinny little _Kludges_ by the sound and smell of them, the only problem would be the taser. He would just have to take them by surprise and act fast.

He didn't know where he was, but the stench of the place was overpowering to his sensitive nose, full of mud and unidentified chemicals. Without knowing how long he'd been out, he had no real estimation of how far they could have travelled. He'd come to when he'd been thrown into what had to be some kind of space transport, which had smelled strongly of fear, and played dead so far even when they'd landed and thrown him none too gently on the floor where he was now.

The ropes were loose about his wrists when he heard the footsteps coming in his direction, so he gathered them together in his hands, pulling them tight against his wrists so that it would seem he was still secure.

"See?" a voice he recognised as the woman said. "A Neitzchean! You always said they made the best Rush. You said there'd be a bonus if we got one. You said we could get first dibs on its Rush if we got one. You said they take longer to die. You said – "

"Shut up!" A new voice snapped, silencing the woman, for which Rhade was grateful; her shrieking tones were cutting through his headache and not in a good way. "You'll get your reward, don't worry. Is he still unconscious? Good. Take off the gag and blindfold, I want to check his eyes and teeth."

By the sound of feet and breathing there were probably four of them; the woman, a new man and presumably the other two men who had kidnapped him, one of whom was in front of his face. He kept perfectly still and hoped there was enough length in the rope between his feet to at least maintain balance.

The instant his eyes were clear of the blindfold his arms were shedding the ropes, hands clamping either side of the head of the man who was untying him. A quick turn, a snapped neck and the man dropped lifeless to the floor as Rhade rolled to his feet. He quickly noted the rough walls, the lack of windows and the fact that he was furthest from the single door. The other three spaced out around them, the woman and the new man who, with his decorative staff, was clearly in charge, stood set back slightly, leaving the man who had taken pleasure in electrocuting him to take the lead.

Growling deep in his throat, Rhade grinned nastily at the man, revenge clear in his expression. He feinted forward and all three leapt backwards. They were scared of him. Good. That gave him enough space to crouch down and feel through the dead man's clothes for a weapon whilst never breaking eye contact.

The taser man though, found some courage as his captive crouched and threw himself at Rhade. His intention was never clear and the taser never made an appearance, but one swipe upwards and bone blades tore through the man's guts and chest cavity leaving him to try and hold his own innards in while he finished dying.

Quickly finding a knife on the first dead body, Rhade sliced the hobbling rope and advanced on the woman. The man in charge had disappeared and the woman seemed torn between fight and flight, her head swivelling as she licked her lips and divided her attention between Rhade and the doorway.

The decision was made when it became clear that the third man had gone for reinforcements. "He's mine!" she screamed over and over as a score of thin pasty men came pouring through the door. Adrenaline kicked in and Rhade felt his blades virtually singing in anticipation; he was not in a mood to take prisoners.

The first two fell instantly with their throats ripped out, another two with their skulls cracked together and yet another jumped on Rhade's back and he used that one to shield himself. More arrived bringing home made weapons, clubs and frying pans, all determined to take him down and none caring for their own lives. There seemed to be no end to his attackers, only bodies piling up around him, until a pinprick barely noticed at his neck and the world slipped sideways, his attackers drawing away.

As he fells to his knees he sneered up at the man who seemed to be in charge, staff still in hand. He couldn't speak, his tongue frozen by the drug but his eyes promised death to any that touched him once the drug wore off.

The man with the staff watched him as he battled the chemicals that tried to draw him down. A battle of wills that was hard fought and not easily lost, but the outcome was inevitable. Rhade slumped fractionally and the man with the staff smiled faintly.

"This mustn't happen again," the man said calmly. "I want those inbuilt weapons gone. Cut them out at the root and bring him to me alive."

"No!" Rhade tried to protest, find someway out of this, but the word came out as meaningless noise and he could do nothing, as the pasty men pinned his arms and set about hacking his bone blades away, but scream.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

They were milking him like a stinking cow.

Just the concept made Rhade feel ill and he probably would have been if hadn't done that already. If he'd thought he couldn't sink any lower before, now he'd discovered a whole new basement level that these people were only too happy to drag him down into.

He was lying on his left side, facing the wall of a smallish hot room that smelled of rot and decay and tied into place on his cot with copious quantities of rope and leather straps. From the little he could see and the much he could hear, there were three or four more cots, some of which were occupied by others in the same predicament. He was fully aware that his arrival had meant the execution, or perhaps it had been a mercy killing, of a man who was at death's door, simply because they didn't need him anymore.

For the longest time, the fire in his arms had blinded Rhade to anything else that might have been going on, but then they'd given him a pick me up. As the pain had become a little more manageable and adrenaline had surged through his system increasing his awareness, he'd thought it was to counteract the sedative, but he'd since been enlightened as the shaking throughout his body now attested.

He'd been stripped to the waist, for which he'd been initially grateful as it helped with the heat, but in fact it was to make room for the tubing that had been inserted into his flesh somewhere above his right kidney. That they wanted him alive was clear in their endeavours to wrap his broken and bloody arms in rags that had been dipped into a pungent disinfectant.

He tried not to think what that might mean in the long term, for those blades were far more than just in-built weapons. If he was lucky he'd be dead long before the long term came about, but for the moment, he tried to concentrate on keeping his arms perfectly still, keeping the fire banked, under control, even though that was becoming increasingly difficult as the shock wore off and he began to lose any hope of controlling his own body.

Sweat poured off him as the shakes grew in intensity and he could feel the strength in his muscles growing with the familiar angry high that he normally used to serve him in a fight. But unlike those fights, he had no control, and there was no coming down because the second line that ran to his neck, was feeding him the drug that was stimulating the adrenaline they were harvesting.

XXXXX

Beka sighed and leaned back, taking the Maru up through the atmosphere. "I'm giving up, this is getting us nowhere; we've covered the entire planet and it's just a waste of time."

"I agree," said Dylan coming into the cockpit from the living area with Trance. "We need to go back to basics, find out what made Althazar believe Seefra 6 was the place to look and get more information."

"What?" argued Beka, "You're still going to continue this crazy quest? I'm with Harper, grab the junk and pay him for it later." She shook her head, "All this for a lump of worthless metal."

"Which will help get us out of the Seefra system," Dylan reminded her.

"So you keep saying," Beka muttered as she steered the Maru on her way.

XXXXX

His arms screamed in agony at every twitch, hot and cold sweats alternating suddenly and violently, muscles cramping from head to toe, heart pounding in his eardrums and blood fizzing through his veins. Rhade could virtually feel his enhanced immune system trying to heal him, but it simply couldn't keep up.

With only the wall to look at and no response from anyone in the other cots, there was almost nothing to distract him from his suffering, other than the occasional ministrations of a young boy. To avoid ghosts and unwanted thoughts he tried to recall poetry and literature from home, silly rhymes and little ditties when the pain was too much to concentrate on the epics or the philosophical. Sometimes he didn't know whether he recited them out loud or not, but when he knew he did, they came out in harsh bursts of breath, halting and raw with neither tone nor rhythm, and often broken by a bitten back scream.

The boy smiled sometimes at some of the simple rhymes, and Rhade tried to make him laugh when he was able to form any thought. It seemed that the boy's job was to keep applying the disinfectant to his arms, and the kid took great pains to do so carefully, seemingly fascinated by the remains of his blades. In one of his more lucid moments, he tried to strike up conversation with the boy, but only received a scared look and a whispered, "shhh!"

Periodically, the man with the staff, Lord Barle, he overheard once, would come and change the little collection vial and check his eyes and teeth. Rhade kept trying to bite Barle strictly out of principle rather than any real hope of doing damage and every time, Barle would calmly press down on the splintered remains of his bone blades until the pain couldn't be held inside.

As soon as he'd gone, the boy would immediately tend him, trying to pick out splinters and dab away the blood.

Any conception of time skipped away from him, but he had to keep fighting constantly. His jacked up system would not let him do anything but fight or give up and he already knew what giving up in spirit was like, to give up in body was unthinkable.

XXXXX

Alec Althazar was a serious looking older man of tall and stocky proportions, basically quite fit although the cane supported a heavy limp. Bryal was his only son and although he openly admitted that he and Bryal often disagreed, they were close; had been ever since Elspeth Althazar had passed away, leaving them with only each other. Bryal never went more than a few days without at least a short message to say he was doing well and ensure his father was all right.

One of their disagreements, however, was Bryal's decision to join the repo cops. Alec liked technology and thought that it could have many applications that would ease some of the suffering in the system. Bryal disagreed, opining that whilst technology could be good, in the wrong hands and the uneducated majority, technology was just too dangerous.

At the time of his disappearance, Alec believed Bryal to have been involved in something, an investigation perhaps, but had no idea exactly what. He was certain it would have been above board because Bryal had always been a good boy and had always wanted to be a hero. Alec was, however, disapproving of Bryal's work partner, a young man by the name of Lan, who seemed nice enough, but entirely too reckless for Alec's peace of mind.

Bryal had been out of touch for nearly a month now, and when Alec had contacted the repo cops all they'd said was that Bryal and Lan had gone AWOL with one of their flight craft. The last message that Alec had had from Bryal was that he was going for a trip to Seefra 6, hence his assumption that this was most likely.

"We can't search the whole damn system," Beka objected. "It would take forever!"

"I know," nodded Dylan, "But we really need that coil. We could sweep Seefra 6 again, but I'd be lying if I said there was much hope."

Althazar nodded with a sigh. "I understand. You tried, and for that I thank you. I will have the coil delivered to you tomorrow."

"Well," Dylan was caught by surprise, already planning his next words in order to try and barter for the coil. "Uh, thank _you_. If we find anything, we'll be certain to let you know."

"Sure," Althazar replied without any conviction, and turned to walk away.

"You know," remarked Dylan, "I think that man could be the only genuinely honourable person I've met in all the nine planets."

"Maybe," said Beka. "Or maybe he's got an ulterior motive, or maybe he's a mug. Most likely though, you're the mug. Ten to one that coil won't get delivered."

XXXXX

Elsa sighed as Jason tried to have her come with him to work today.

Her grandson had been trying to get her to come to the caves with him everyday for the last couple of weeks, telling her she absolutely had to see one of the patients in the clinic, something about the man being like Jason was. She was quite certain that she knew what Jason as getting at, but did not want to be involved in the local politics any more than she already was.

She never went to the caves, as she wasn't welcome, although Jason tended to be fussed over by the people there. Mostly, she suspected because he was, in principle, Barle's son. Elsa was certain that Barle suspected otherwise and knew for a fact that her daughter had conceived by another man. Fortunately, Barle had not been there at the birth, or he would quite possibly have destroyed the boy then, not only for killing his mother, but also for the freak he was. Elsa had spent the past eleven years caring for Jason and ensuring that no one ever discovered his little secret.

She was, however, aware that the secret must out some time, but hoped that he would grow into manhood enough that he could find himself a new life before Barle found out. And the important thing was that, with no other offspring in sight, Barle at least gave Jason employment food, and status as his son, if not any semblance of love.

With a natural talent for healing, Jason's job was normally to look after the patients in Barle's clinic overnight, and although she knew that it was usual for patients to go in whole and healthy and came out drained and dead, it was none of her concern. The fact that she disapproved had forced her exile and she counted herself fortunate that Barle had needed her for Jason, or she would have been drained and dead by now.

Jason was becoming more insistent now, emphasising his urgency with sharp choppy motions. "Please grandma, you need to see this man!"

Finally, she capitulated, nodding her assent and was rewarded by Jason's bright smile. Hoping that she wasn't too easily recognised, Elsa wrapped a cloak around her and accompanied Jason to the caves.

It was an hour's walk through the sunset and dark when they arrived. Jason lead the way into the cave system and, although she knew the route perfectly well herself, into the clinic.

The clinic was simply a term used for the laboratory and its attached patient room, and at the time of their arrival, there was no one there, no doubt gone to get food and Rush from the communal cave. Barle would be there too, dishing it all out.

They entered the patient room where there were only two occupants. One was almost a corpse, wrapped in blankets and clearly emaciated. The almost empty vial connected to the tube that disappeared under the blanket was dusty and probably hadn't been changed in some time. It was the other patient that Jason was urging her to see though. Shaking and feverish, this man was not nearly as far down the path as the living corpse.

"How long?" she asked Jason, as the boy unwrapped the bandaged arms.

"A couple of weeks," he replied.

She nodded, her suspicion almost confirmed. She checked the man's eyes and teeth, jumping back as he suddenly tried to bite her, snarling when he missed. If he were a normal human, he would have been suffering from mouth ulcers and swollen veins in his eyes by now. With a life expectancy of 6 weeks, this patient was remarkably healthy, although she was quite sure that he didn't think so.

Jason directed her to the unbound arms, and through the badly healing mutilation, she see where there by all rights have been bone blades. She hadn't known there were any Neitzcheans in the Seefra System and had only heard rumour of one in the ten years since they had been there.

Back in the days before Seefra, Barle had been her laboratory assistant and they'd run a small chemical research laboratory for commercial sectors. When they'd tried live experiments, Neitzcheans had always yielded far better results.

She caught Jason looking at her just then. He was touching his own wrists, tugging gently at the long sleeved shirt, and she knew what he was trying to say. "No," she tried to tell him. "Please don't ask me to do this, honey."

But Jason's big blue eyes beseeched her. "I need to know," he said quietly. He looked like his mother just then and she remembered the last words her daughter had said, begging her to make sure her baby survived, that he knew who he was. She'd forgotten about that last part over the years, but here was an opportunity and Jason wanted to know, deserved to know.

"All right," she said, "But no one must ever find out. Go and fetch some painkillers from the laboratory, the strongest you can find."

As Jason disappeared into the other room, Elsa clasped the patient's head between her hands, looking at him upside down and slapping his face until his pain filled eyes slitted open. "Listen to me. Do you want to live? Do you want to _survive_?"

The slight nod had to be good enough.

XXXXX

"I am so sick of this planet," Beka grumbled. "Sand, sand and more sand."

"Same as all the others," Harper remarked as he concentrated on a reading one of his gadgets was throwing up. "Here's a residual trail!"

Beka noticed that even Harper's natural ebullience was lacking with the sheer fruitlessness and boredom of what they were doing. "Going in," she sighed. "And if this another bush hunter that's going to get uptight with us trampling all over his hide, I will personally ram that inductor coil where it won't be of any use to anyone."

"Aw, boss, you're such a caring and giving kinda gal," Harper grinned as they landed.

Within half an hour, they were both back on board the Maru with another bush hunter hurling abuse at them.

XXXXX

The journey to wherever he was now had been mostly in haze. Rhade knew he'd lost control sometime after his legs started working again. He'd done as the old woman said right up until they'd left the room and entered the place with all the tubes and bottles and generators. It was all processing fluids milked from his body and it was obscene and he hadn't been able to stand it, attacking it all with uncaring disregard for anything other than the need to destroy and vent just a tiny bit of all that pent up anger.

No one had come though and the boy and the old woman had both urged him to come with them. The boy had found a cloak and thrown it over Rhade, for what reason he wasn't quite sure at the time, but was grateful for through the long trek to wherever they'd come to. He wasn't supposed to feel the cold but somebody had forgotten to remind his body of that fact, and the desert was very cold once the sun went down.

It had been a monumental effort to keep upright and move one foot in front of the other, but both boy and old woman kept telling to him to keep going. They tried to half carry him, but neither stood a chance of being strong enough. Only once they entered the threshold of the hut did the boy and old woman let up and let him fall to the floor.

Instinctively he sought the nearest corner to give him protection at his back, sitting as far into that corner as he could and raising his arms defensively. The shocked sight of his ruined flesh and bones though, was enough to send him spiralling back into the flames of agony.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Having given up entirely on the bad job that was Seefra 6, Harper and Beka had returned to Harper's bar for some much needed R&R. As Harper poured himself a drink, a very luscious blonde lady leaned over the bar, "Excuse me, you're one of Rhade's friends, right?

"Not so much friends, but maybe I like the guy sometimes, and I definitely know him, or at least I know where he hangs out mostly. How can I help you?" Harper asked, beaming his best charming smile.

"Wonderful," smiled the blonde coyly, "I was wondering if you might know where that might be."

"Right here," Harper nodded leaning further forward and looking deep into her big… blue eyes.

She looked around. "He's not here right now," she pointed out.

Harper kept staring at her… eyes. "Nope, you're right, perhaps I could help you."

"Er," the blonde raised an eyebrow, "I was really hoping to see Rhade. We started something a couple of weeks ago, and as we've just returned to town I was kind of hoping for a repeat performance but he's not been around the last few days. I was just wondering if he'd come back with you."

"Nope, no idea," Harper said, still beaming and staring at her hopefully. "Are you sure I can't help?"

The blonde leaned forward until they were cheek to cheek and said softly, "I'm afraid you're just too, too much for me."

Harper's grinned broadened even further and he blushed, "Well, if I do say so myself I – "

The blonde interrupted as she stood back upright. "If Rhade shows up, just tell him that Anna and Sabrina's door is open anytime," she winked and left the bar, leaving Harper in a happy daze. At least until he'd worked out exactly what she'd said.

"Hey, Harper!" Beka called from her table, "You got one of those saliva drinks!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you going to pay for it this time?"

"Why of course," said Beka, "Just as soon as I've won some money from these fine gentlemen." She indicated the two ragged characters at her table.

"I know, I know, put it on the tab." He took the drink over to her. "So, anyone seen our resident Neitzchean?" he asked as it occurred to him that he'd not seen Rhade since before they'd gone to Seefra 6 the first time. There was a slight twinge of guilt, but then again, they weren't Dylan's crew anymore and with the exception of Trance, they each had something approximating lives to attend to. He and Doyle watched out for each other, and Dylan and Trance watched over each other, but Beka and Rhade were always each off on their own, sometimes for weeks at a time and often without telling anyone.

"Not me," said Beka as she shuffled a deck of cards. "Ah, he's either off beating up clients, sleeping around or sleeping it off. Why?"

"Because I've not seen him since he disappeared with those two luscious ladies a few weeks ago and one of them just came looking for him; apparently he hasn't been in here for days," replied Harper. "And by the way that is so unfair. Why do they always go for the big heroic type, even when said heroic type is a self-destructive alcoholic. Do you think maybe it's because they all think they can be the one to fix him? Hey, yeah, maybe, maybe I should drink myself into unconsciousness and then some gorgeousness will come along and tuck me up in bed… oh, hi, Doyle, I didn't see you there."

"Obviously." Doyle replied, smiling sweetly. "Funny you should be talking about Rhade. One of his not so nice clients just asked me where he was. He wanted to know why he's avoiding him. Apparently there was supposed to be a meet a few days ago, and Rhade didn't turn up and the clients were furious."

"You told them you didn't know?

Doyle nodded, "I did, and they wouldn't listen."

"Did you make them listen?" asked Beka.

"Of course," smiled Doyle.

Beka thought for a moment. "You know, Trance made some cryptic comment ages ago about someone trying to kill Rhade. I didn't pay much attention though; you know how Trance likes to talk in riddles and it hurts my head to think about what she says too hard."

"Well, much as I don't like him, I hope the big guy is doing okay," said Harper, "He's starting to grow on me."

XXXXX

Rhade was not doing okay at all, his mind elsewhere as he huddled in a corner of Elsa's kitchen.

Elsa hummed to herself as she stirred a large vat of desert rat stew. Jason was at the caves cleaning up the mess the Neitzchean had made of the laboratory. It seemed that the patient had escaped by himself, as far as Barle was apparently concerned. He'd decided that Jason had left the captive's bonds a little too loose and that had been all the Neitzchean had needed and he had no reason to think that either Jason or herself would have had anything to do with the escape.

Barle believed his captive to be wandering somewhere in the desert and had sent patrols looking for him, which made Elsa very happy imagining Barle's frustration. After all, her son-in-law had no doubt thought the Divine was smiling upon him when one of the crews brought the Neitzchean in. A source of raw material that would both outlast a normal human and yield a far more potent harvest would have been a dream come true in this armpit of the universe.

Of course, Barle had somewhat destroyed his treasure by mutilating him, but that was Barle's fear; he could not stand those that he perceived as stronger than him. Neitzcheans by their very nature were a threat to him and in the years before Seefra, while their experiments on Neitzcheans, among other races, were less than ethical, she'd turned a blind eye to what she had noticed was a particularly sadistic streak in her assistance. From the ragged look of them, he'd had one of the gangs bludgeon the Nietzsche's blades off and dig them out by the root, probably on the pretext of quite literally disarming him.

She looked around at her house guest. He was too big and heavy to move, and with his head so screwed up he was in no fit state to move himself, so she'd decided to leave him where he was. That he was in her kitchen was slightly worrying, but she'd hidden all the knives and sharp objects away. The healer side of her nature wanted to mend his broken bones, but compassion was something she'd long ago learned to squelch. She was only interested in letting him come down off the drugs that Barle had been feeding him for the moment. The painkillers she'd given him had no doubt done more damage, but hopefully the man would become lucid enough for her to educate Jason.

The stew was ready, so she decanted it into a large dish and stored it away, putting on fresh batch. The Nietzsche would be ravenous once the drugs were purged, and she was stocking up. The last thing she needed was a hungry, angry and in pain Nietzsche rampaging about the place.

While the pot was heating up for another go round, she considered her guest. He looked a little better, the violent shakes muted to a constant shivering, and the feverish sweat poured off him in hot waves she could virtually feel, but he was no longer oscillating so wildly between hot and cold. A lot of this was infection setting in, but she couldn't do anything about that until the drugs were clear; the work that needed to be done would be too dangerous while he was unstable, if she even decided that healing was the right thing to do. Currently she didn't think she could restore him to full health and she didn't care, but Jason might want to try and she would assist her grandson if that was what he wanted.

The mumbling noises the man had been making almost continuously were becoming clearer, sounding like bits of verse in between harsh pleas for forgiveness. Elsa went near him a couple of times to test the water, but that only resulted in him snarling like an animal and trying slash at her with his broken blades. When she pulled away he would retreat back into his corner, huddling into himself and muttering to no one. Once, he opened his eyes properly and although they were still glazed, the mind behind them was showing through.

"Louisa?" he'd asked her softly and she'd shaken her head. "Gillian?" he'd asked more plaintively. Again, no and he'd subsided into the most heart rending howl of grief she'd ever heard.

XXXXX

"What's he doing all the way over there?" Beka asked Andromeda from the command deck.

"I cannot speculate," Andromeda informed her, "I can only confirm that Lieutenant Commander Rhade's communicator is sending a signal from that location."

"It's likely he would have clients or suppliers on the backside of Seefra 1," Doyle suggested.

"You're right," Beka said, "It's not like he's a child that needs checking up on, even if he does act like one sometimes. We know where he is and Dylan can go pick him up if he wants him. Not my problem."

"Who are you trying to convince?" asked Trance walking onto the command deck.

Beka sniffed and paused before answering. "So do you think it's necessary for someone to go and drag our resident drunk back home? Since he's not answering his communicator, he's probably not capable."

"Do _you_?" returned Trance.

"No," said Beka, perhaps a bit too quickly and examining the board in front of her which wasn't showing much of anything.

"Necessity depends upon one's perspective," Trance said, "but to drop by and see how someone is would be a just a nice thing to do from any perspective."

"I don't do nice things unless the money's good," muttered Beka.

XXXXX

"I have no idea why we're doing this," Beka grumbled as she landed the Maru outside the mines. "If he's propping up some bar I'll take the cost of my fuel out of his hide, I swear."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough," Doyle replied, "because according to my sensors he's right around the corner.

They left the Maru and walked around to the mine entrance where a couple of dilapidated shacks leaned against each other. There did not seem to be anyone around, so they opened the door to the shack where Doyle thought that Rhade should be. Inside was devoid or Rhade or anyone else, simply an old battered desk, an old cabinet, and dusty flexi's strewn everywhere.

"O-kay," said Beka, "Well, I can't help being nosy." She opened the desk and cabinet, rifling through technological odds and ends that she was quite certain would have had the anti-tech repo cops down here faster than a speeding Trance. Among them was Rhade's communicator, quietly poling for a signal. "Right," Beka said, "at least we know we're getting somewhere."

"Beka, we have company," Doyle warned, a second before a thin, pale man with dark circles under his eyes stepped through the door.

"Who are you?" he demanded, "And what are you doing?"

Beka smiled at him through clenched teeth. The man was already winding her up and he hadn't done anything yet. "We're looking for a friend of ours. We think he might have gotten lost."

"We don't have strangers around here often." he said, but there was a light in his eye that Beka didn't like.

""Well, we know he's been here because we found this," Beka replied holding the communicator. "Have you seen him? Tall, dark and desperately in need of a good barber?"

"Haven't seen no strangers here," the man repeated, "but I'll take you into town. Maybe there's someone there who's seen him and I know Lord Barle will be very interested in you." The man beamed at them but it seemed forced, as if his face wasn't used to smiling.

"After you," agreed Beka. As they walked away from the mine, Doyle leaned in to her.

"Here's an interesting little fact," she said in a low voice. "According to those flexi's, guess who owns this mine?"

"No idea," said Beka. "Do tell."

"One Alec Althazar."

"Really?" Beka's eyebrows both hit her hairline. "Coincidence do we think?"

"Only one way to find out."

XXXXX

It was hard work trying to remember anything. On one level Rhade was aware that he was wedged into a corner somewhere, and on another he was aware that foreign chemicals were running around his bloodstream. However on another level, the level he was currently living at, he was being deluged by memories and fears that he normally kept carefully hidden or cocooned in a comfortable layer of alcohol, all crashing down on him in chaotic confusion.

He remembered feeling like this the first time he'd been critically injured defending Terazed and flinched at the remembered tearing of flesh. The medic had fed him stimulants and painkillers then to keep him leading his unit through the fire fight; none of the raw recruits knew that they were being lead by a walking dead man until he'd collapsed at the end and very nearly hadn't made it. The worst of it was that it had been the coming off the drugs that had been worse that the injury itself and he'd missed the birth of his eldest because of it and Gillian had been so strong, like Louisa…

Sometimes someone stood over him, and the hope that lay chained in its carefully hidden prison deep within his psyche raised it's head a little. "Louisa? Gillian?" he'd asked, but predictably it never was. And how could it be? They had been one and two lifetimes ago, in a time when he'd been proud to know that he always did his absolute best at whatever he turned his hand to.

Hand.

His hands, his broken hands, his only weapons to protect him against the rats, giant rats that scurried in the darkness, waiting to nibble him to pieces.

No, wait, they were already nibbling, they'd eaten away the skin and meat of his hands, his arms, pulled his bone blades out by the roots and were nibbling away at the bleeding cavities. He tried to shake them off, but the giant rats were the ones shaking him.

XXXXX

Beka and Doyle were shown into a small cavern where they were introduced to the Lord Barle. A man who was slim and healthy, not having the white, sick look of everyone else they had seen so far, stood over a scared looking boy who likewise had a healthy pallor.

The boy said nothing, but Doyle noticed one pin among several on the collar of his jacket. One belonging to the repo cops. She tried to ask him about it, but Barle told her to save her breath.

"Jason is my son," he explained in a hard, bitterly disappointed tone. "He's rather stupid and has a dirty little habit of picking up bits off the ground and hoarding them as treasures. No doubt someone passing through dropped it. Go on boy, and finish cleaning up that mess before I take a stick to you."

"Fine," said Beka before Doyle could decide to teach Barle some manners. "Now we were wondering if anyone had seen our friend…? Like's frequenting bars and saloons?" she reminded him what they were there for.

"Yes, a Neitzchean you said." He scowled. "There's only ever been one of those here, and he was nothing but trouble."

"Sounds like ours," Beka said. "That _was_ recently, right?"

"The past couple of days in fact," Barle informed them. "He came into town, had a fair bit drink and fell over. A couple of my people took him to a bed in the clinic to sleep it off, he woke up and took it upon himself to smash the place up before disappearing to who knows where. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Beka not sounding sorry at all. "You didn't happen to see which direction he went in, did you?"

"No," replied Barle, "but if I see him first, I warn you, I shall be taking appropriate retribution for the damage he did."

"Could we have a look?" Doyle said suddenly. "At the damage our friend did?"

Beka had no idea what Doyle was on but helped her out. "Yeah, you know, we might be able to help fix it."

"Certainly," said Barle abruptly and nodded to the man behind him.

The man ran at them as Barle stepped forward. But they had not reckoned on Doyle's speed and agility. Both men were on the ground and reinforcements still on their way to the cave when the two women were sprinting towards the Eureka Maru.

"Now, is it just me," said Beka breathlessly as she shut the Maru's door, "or does Lord Barf remind you of a human bloodsucker?"

XXXXX

A small bleeping sounded from the grille by Elsa's door and stepped over quickly to check it. It was simply her proximity alarm, but it paid to be cautious.

It was too early to be Jason and she wasn't expecting anyone else so she cracked open the door to peek out in some apprehension. The concern mounted when she saw it was a group of four of Barle's slaves on patrol and she took several deep breaths as she tried to fight down her panic.

Fortunately they only wanted to check if she'd seen any strangers, either the Neitzch or two blonde girlie types. She told them no and sent them on their way, closing the door with long sigh of relief.

She wondered if the girls were friends of the Neitzch's, and decided that she needed to know if anyone was likely to come looking. She wasn't certain if she'd give the Neitzch up if anyone did come looking, but it would be better if she knew whether he would want to go with them or not. And there was the fact that the only Neitzchean she had ever heard of in the Seefra system was the one that was Tomas' enforcer before running with the Hunt crowd, and she wasn't to happy at the prospect of either paying a visit.

XXXXX

"It was really weird, Dylan." Beka told Dylan from the cockpit of the Maru. "I was all ready to buy into Barle's story, right up to the point they tried to jump us."

"You think that something's happened to Rhade?" Dylan asked from Andromeda, his face showing concern through the static signal.

"Hard to say. Either that, or they wanted something to happen to _us_. And the repo cop's have definitely been around but he seemed really cagey about that. "

"And there's the fact that Althazar owns the place; it's all too coincidental."

"And the people, Dylan. If we were back in the universe, I'd say they were all on Flash. They don't have the eyes, but they're all thin and white and got that look their eyes…" she trailed off uncomfortably. This was not an area she cared to delve in too deeply even though her own addiction was history.

Dylan paused. "Interesting," he said finally. "I think I should take a look. I want you both back on Andromeda to help Harper."

"But what about Rhade? I could make some low level sweeps - ?"

"Beka, I appreciate that, but I'd rather have you here. Trance and I can do more effective sweeps from a slip fighter, and you're both known to this Barle character."

Beka stared hard at Dylan, preparing to face him down, but then Doyle observed, "We don't know if Rhade's even in any trouble."

"You're right!" Beka snapped, "He could have just gone off to find himself." Dylan and Doyle were both looking at her with matching raised eyebrows and Beka realised that these days, the depressed Neitzchean could have done exactly that. She rolled her eyes, "I'm coming home," she said and switched Dylan off while she muttered under her breath, "And he better hope he finds himself because if he's not in trouble I'm going to kick his ass so far into the next galaxy he'll _never_ find it again."

XXXXX

"Talk to me, Neitzchean," an old crone was whispering in his ear and he tried to push her away. "No you don't, you idiot, I'm not the enemy. I need to know, do you have friends that might come looking for you? Do you have any friends?"

"Friends?" he asked her, not quite comprehending the question.

"Yes, friends. Who are they?"

"Friends," he replied letting the words roll around. There was someone, his commander, except _he_ was the commander, the Admiral of all of Terazed. But that wasn't right either. There was Hunt, Dylan and sometimes he was a friend, but mostly he was a friend to his great, great, great whatever grandfather, and always looked at him like he was expecting him to betray him or be his ancestor, except he wasn't. And Rommie, Andromeda, none of them ever trusted him. They all looked at him and saw Gaheris, not Telemachus. Harper never made any pretence regarding his hatred of Neitzcheans, which was actually refreshing, and Trance was on her own planet. Sun. Whatever the hell she was. Doyle was cold and Beka was colder.

Didn't one of the great philosophers say that no one could love you until you learned to love yourself? He laughed at that thought. He didn't love himself, in fact he hated, _despised_ himself as a failure. So logic following on, if he hated himself, then the rest must also hate him and… _"'… man continued walking and falling until his blood stopped circulating and he collapsed. He uttered a terrible sound . . . the voice of a soul who encountered the hollow face of Death . . . a voice of dying youth, weakened by man and trapped by nature . . . a voice of the love of existence in the space of nothingness.'"_

"Neitzchean! Answer me! Do you have friends?"

Rhade rolled his head back against the wall and squinted up at the old crone. "Nope," he said, "no friends here," and he laughed, thinking what a joke it all was. But then he got distracted by the rats nibbling again.

XXXXX

Lord Barle had himself a serious problem. With only the dying boy left in the clinic, who was virtually past harvesting, he only had a limited stock of Rush.

Without the Rush he served out daily to his people, they would likely turn on him in their bid to find more. He'd sent out the hunting group to bring in fresh patients, but none had been successful so far.

He cursed himself for getting so over enthusiastic about the Neitzchean. He shouldn't have relied on the extended durability of the subject and he should have sent the group back out to hunt. Instead, he'd kept his promise and let them have first shot at the Neitzchean Rush which had tripped them out for days.

The two strange women would have been perfect, but he'd been stupid there, momentary anger at the destruction of his laboratory causing him to act in haste. He could have offered them a nice cup of refreshment, slipped in a sedative and installed them in the clinic.

But he hadn't, so he needed to find fresh blood elsewhere.

XXXXX

After Elsa had sent Jason off to work for the evening, she turned her attention to the Neitzchean and was surprised to find him calmly watching her, no longer huddled but sitting against the walls, legs splayed in front of him and holding his arms carefully in front of his chest.

"So," she folded her arms and stood looking down at him. "You've decided to rejoin us."

The man blinked slowly, clearly taking his time to form his thoughts. "Um, about that," he started hoarsely, "where am I? And… do I know you?"

"You can call me Elsa," the old crone said, "and you're in my home. How much do you remember?"

The man closed his eyes and frowned, shaking his head slightly as he tried to recall. She could see that he was by no means well, but at least the drugs seemed to have been purged. "Not much," he said at last.

Elsa nodded and busied herself heating up a bowl of her stew. "Suffice to say I was persuaded to get you out of the abattoir Barle laughingly calls his clinic." She put the bowl and spoon on his lap. "But just so you know, it wasn't my idea."

The man awkwardly manipulated the spoon with swollen fingers. "Um, thank you anyway."

It took all of his concentration to get the stew in him and Elsa had to prevent him from eating too much too soon. "If you want to throw it all back up, be my guest," she told him. "Just remember you'll be the one lying in it."

He nodded and stopped to rest his head back against the wall. "How long…?"

"My, full of questions, and not even the courtesy to share your name."

Grimacing, he wiped his mouth on his shoulder. "Rhade," he said, "And this is good. Uh, is there any more?"

"Yes, well, Mr Rhade, you've been lying on my kitchen floor for two days now and I'd appreciate it if you moved yourself somewhere out of the way. Over there preferably." Elsa pointed to the living area. He started to try and pull his legs under him. "Not now, stupid. After you've finished eating. I've gone to the effort of making this stuff for you and I don't want you spilling it all over the floor."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a half smile, settling himself back down as she refilled his bowl. There was silence for a while other than the slow scraping of the spoon in the bowl, and soft swipe of cloth as Elsa cleaned furniture that didn't need cleaning.

Part way through his third helping, Rhade stopped and pushed the bowl away on the floor. "So," he asked finally, "who conned you into saving my ass?" he finished the sentence with a self-deprecating laugh that grated.

"I want you out of my kitchen," she said abruptly. "Stand up."

Rhade laughed again in the same tone and turned his head away. "I feel like a pig," he muttered as he tried to get his legs under him.

"You smell like one," Elsa told him and, though she only came up to his elbow, put herself at his side to use to lever himself up. At first he refused, trying to push himself upwards using the wall. "Stupid, arrogant pig too," Elsa sniped pulling one arm around her shoulders and not really caring if it meant she pulled on his broken arm.

He bit back a cry but made it to his feet, albeit leaning heavily against the wall. He took a deep breath to steady himself, before bowing slightly at Elsa. "I thank you for your very kind hospitality, old mother," he said, slurring very slightly, "but I feel I have overstayed my welcome and will depart these premises-"

Elsa snorted and grabbed him by the waistband of his pants, pulling him towards the living area. "Noisy pig fall down over here." Rhade obliged, falling onto the pile of rugs that seemed to have been laid there especially for him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are a very rude old woman?" Rhade asked as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are a very sad excuse for a Neitzchean?" Elsa replied.

"Frequently," Rhade replied wryly.

"Exactly," Elsa grinned. Despite herself, she was actually thinking that she might enjoy the company of this Neitzchean. Still, it could be too dangerous to keep him around, so she would see what Jason had to say on the subject.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Deep in the bowls of Andromeda, Harper tested the coil in situ. Nothing happened and he cursed. He'd already tested the coil separately, but it wasn't fitting in to Andromeda's slipstream drive even with his modifications.

He took it back out with the conclusion that it needed to be opened up and tweaked a little more. There was no doubt an energy differential that needed to be compensated for, which he thought he'd done with the power converter, but perhaps there were some more adjustments he could make to the coil itself.

After he'd prised open the casing, he stared at the mechanics inside. He could see exactly the adjustments that needed to be made. He could also see exactly where the coil had come from.

"Where's Beka?" he asked Andromeda who flickered to life on the view screen. Dylan was off somewhere with Trance, probably Seefra 1.

"On the command deck," Andromeda told him and switched view to Doyle and Beka deep in conversation.

"Beka, I think we have a problem," Harper's voice caught Beka's attention.

"What's up?" she asked.

"This coil," he hefted it up so the camera could see it, "is from a repo cop shuttle."

"So?" said Beka. "Althazar could have had access to spare parts through his son."

Harper sighed. Sometimes it was hard work being a genius. "No, no, no, remember how I said that Andromeda needed a highly specialised coil? These don't just fall out of passing ships, they don't even hang around ship shops or storage rooms. Besides, what reason would Althazar have for keeping a spare that no one would ever use? This had to come from a ship, which means that either Althazar keeps a repo cop ship in his garage, or he's salvaged one, or he knows where one wrote itself off, or…"

"I get the picture," Beka said raising a hand. "Now I wonder what businesses Althazar runs."

"Well let's find out shall we?" Doyle said.

XXXXX

Rhade surveyed Elsa's home, noting the chaos of bric-a-brac that littered the place. It was small, albeit managing to boast three rooms plus bathroom, however his own sprawled form took up the majority of the living area. Elsa herself was old and gnarled and tiny, but with a commanding voice although the sparse grey hair worn long and loose gave her the look of a madwoman.

The grandson Rhade remembered seeing as part of his hallucinating dreams, and thought he was child bordering on manhood, perhaps twelve years of age, blond and blue-eyed. His memory was born out when the boy came in from work, but those blue eyes were far older than they should have been.

"Jason, this is Rhade," Elsa said. "Perhaps you'd like to see to his wounds. You'll need to prepare as I'm sure you can see the patient has an infection."

The boy nodded and Elsa explained, "Jason is a healer, very talented, but still young and learning, and those arms of yours need seeing to. He doesn't know enough about your physiology though, so you're going to have to help."

Rhade wiped at the sweat dripping down his face and pushed greasy strands of hair out of his eyes. "I'm not sure how much help I'm going to be," he said, blinking through a sudden bout of double vision.

"Your loss," Elsa shrugged, and for the first time, Rhade really considered the damage to his arms.

"My loss, my sorrow," he muttered to himself and then drew up his best grin for Jason as he came in with a bowl of hot water. "Let's see the damage," he said jauntily, belying the dread building in his stomach as he held his arms out.

Jason was deft and thorough, needing little guidance from either Elsa or Rhade. What help he did need was prompted by Elsa with Rhade answering in monosyllables as the full extent of his wounds was revealed.

That all six blades had been snapped off was not news and wasn't much different from snapping a fingernail, barely felt. Blades were often lost in both love and war, and quickly regrown. That the bones in his arms were not broken was a pleasant surprise. However, the severe bruising and lacerations around the blade areas was only the outward manifestation of fact that the roots of the blades had been gouged out. The pain he'd been suffering was that of fingernails or teeth being brutally ripped out, except on a much larger scale."'_He called for help and then stood silent, shivering in the cold night. He had slim hope, withering between great despair and deep sorrow. He was like a bird with a broken wing, who fell in a stream whose whirlpools carried him down to the depths.'"_

He watched detachedly as Jason pulled all the splinters from his skin, cleaned the shallow bloody sockets of accumulated pus and dressed his arms. The sweat felt ice cold now, and his vision was dimming, his stomach rebelling against the food that filled it.

A bucket appeared by his head just in time, and the force of his nausea dulled his vision altogether.

XXXXX

When the very tall and well built Dylan Hunt came to the caves, Lord Barle was over come with gratitude to the Divine and greeted the Captain and his strange companion with the utmost charm and hospitality.

Barle led Dylan and Trance into a curtained off area that was, whilst modest, significantly more comfortable than the rest of the cave system.

Using his staff as a pointer, Barle bade his guests sit on the floor cushions as he himself did around a low metal table.

"Water?" he offered a pure crystalline jug with clear water.

"Oh, thank you," breathed Trance with a bright smile, reaching for it. "Shall I be mother?" She poured water into Barle's glass and her own, but then the jug slipped, cracking the jug on the edge of the table and shattering it, water spraying everywhere. "Oh!" Trance, wide eyed, put her hands to her mouth. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I'm so clumsy, I'm sorry, that water must have been so expensive and I'm – I'm so sorry!"

Barle looked outraged for a moment, but his charming smile was soon back in place. "That's quite all right my dear," he leaned towards Dylan. "Such a beautifully unusual child," he said. "Here, have mine."

"No," replied Dylan, "I couldn't. Please."

"I insist."

"No, really, I mean it, I couldn't. But thank you, your hospitality is appreciated and I would be insulted if you pressed the point."

"As host, I would think it was I who should be insulted." Barle offered the glass once more.

Dylan took it and put it on the table. "Maybe later."

Barle looked for a moment like he'd eaten something sour before smiling again. "To business then. You say that you're here on behalf of Mr Althazar?"

"Yes," replied Dylan. "As I'm sure you're aware, his son seems to have disappeared and we're making enquiries on his behalf."

"Ah, I heard. Went off to arrest some tech outlaws and vanished as I understand it." Barle's expression was of sincere concern.

"Quite, but Mr Althazar wants all the loose ends tied up, you understand. Have there been any strangers around here?"

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand where you're going with this?" Barle looked vaguely suspicious.

"And I'm sorry too," replied Dylan. "I can't divulge my sources, but suffice it to say, I have my reasons for asking these questions. Mr Althazar wants us to be quite thorough. So have there?"

Barle appeared to think for a moment. "Yes, yes there have. Two girls were here yesterday. They came looking for a friend who passed through here a couple of days ago. Other than that, no one, I'm sorry."

"What about repo cops?"

"No, we never have any of those here. Why would we with one of their own being the owner's son?"

"That's all I needed to ask you," Dylan said, "but would it be possible to look at your facility? Mr Althazar suggested it might be a good idea for me to do a spot inspection while I was here."

"Certainly, certainly," Barle said, getting to his feet. "Come right this way."

He led them through the communal hall where Dylan was surprised to recognise the people that had tried to attack him in the alleyway.

Being a medic, Trance asked to see the medical facilities but Barle declined on the grounds of contagious patients. Eventually, they came to the last part of the tour; the mines. They were poorly lit and filled with crevasses, mostly crossed by short rickety bridges, and the tunnels were held up my ragged planks of wood and metal.

They passed through many caverns with Barle pointing out the digging sites, where they washed the minerals out, the hoist system that got everything up to the surface and so on.

Somewhere in the bowels Barle was leading them through a particularly narrow tunnel when it all fell extremely abruptly on Dylan's head.

XXXXX

It was well into the night that Rhade groaned his way free of the shocked stupor that had gripped him, but he wasn't left in peace to sort through the implications of his predicament as Jason virtually pounced on him the instant he moved. It was unnerving to have the blue-eyed boy gazing so intensely at him, especially as Elsa had apparently retired to bed.

He needed to get out of here, away to somewhere he could think, away from those piercing eyes. "Okay, well," Rhade awkwardly clambered to hi s feet, and took a moment or three to steady himself against the dizziness. Then, "as I was saying, you'll excuse me, but I have to leave." He eyed the doorway on the far side of the kitchen. If he focussed on that, he should be able to make his way over there eventually.

"You can't," said Jason, firmly. "I need you to help me." As if that explained everything.

Rhade looked down at the boy who was suddenly standing stubbornly in between him and the kitchen. The Neitzchean didn't recall seeing Jason move, but wasn't entirely certain whether that was Jason's speed, or his own failure to see him.

"Need…? Don't talk stupid. Just let me go." Rhade felt his temper building. He didn't need to ask a _kludge_ to let him past, much less a child and he wanted to knock the brat aside. But then, the boy did something that made Rhade sit down again, quite abruptly.

Staring at Rhade with increased intensity, verging on the pleading, Jason rolled back his sleeves and unbuttoned the tight, long sleeved undershirt to reveal small, underdeveloped, but still neat and distinct, bone blades. "I need you to help me understand who I am."

XXXXX

"One mine, two bars, two vehicle repair shops, a textile factory and he sponsors a doctor's surgery." Doyle announced.

"Impressive," said Beka.

"Thank you," Harper replied and Doyle shot a hard glare his way.

"I meant Althazar. He's made a bit of a career out of this pit."

"Vehicle repair shops sound promising," Doyle said. "But we could always just ask Althazar where he got the coil."

"We could," agreed Beka slowly, "But I think knocking a few heads is more fun."

"True," replied Doyle. "Do you think we should inform Dylan of this development?"

Beka thought for a second. "Probably. Dylan? Dylan?" Beka paused, waiting for a reply. "Trance, are you listening?" Still nothing could be heard. "Andromeda can you find Dylan?"

There was a slight hesitation. "No, I cannot," she informed Beka. "The signal was lost when they entered the mine."

XXXXX

Elsa didn't mean to eavesdrop, but she couldn't sleep and had to know what was going on. For the longest time there was silence and she eventually gave in to her curiosity and peeked into the living area.

Jason was in one corner, his bladed arms hugging his knees, uncertainty in his eyes while Rhade sat cross-legged, staring at Jason with that cold calculating look she had long associated with Neitzcheans.

Her daughter had lain with a Neitzchean, only the once, and for reasons Elsa had never known, other than her daughter had seemed to care for the Neitzchean more than she did her own husband. Whatever the issues between his parents however, Jason had not deserved to be abandoned by them and Elsa carried the guilt of them all.

She was taking a gamble here she knew, but she was confident that whatever kind of man Rhade was, the fact that he was Neitzchean would drive him to give Jason what he needed. She remembered her daughter telling her that Neitzcheans valued children like no other race. She knew a little of the Neitzchean culture herself, knew that Father and Husband were the two titles that every Neitzchean male aspired to, and hoped that Rhade would recognise that Jason needed the guidance of a father figure, a mentor, alpha or whatever the correct Neitzchean term was.

That hope soon crashed and burned.

"Go to bed," Rhade commanded Jason softly and the boy obeyed, his eyes not leaving the Neitzchean until he passed Elsa to go into the bedroom. "Elsa," Rhade acknowledged her before she realised he knew she was there. She stepped around the doorframe to see brown eyes, unfathomably hurt and angry, looking at her. "I can't be what you want."

"What do you think I want?" she asked cautiously. She was on new ground now. Before, she had been the one in charge; now, he was the one who commanded his audience, even with the sweat and pallor of sickness.

"Jason already has a father," Rhade told her in clipped tones.

"A selfish dictator who barely acknowledges him," Elsa retorted. "Barle doesn't even know Jason isn't his son."

"Better that Jason has a father who is what he is, than I." Rhade replied. "I need to leave this place. Before Jason wakes up."

"He's not asleep yet," Elsa replied, "he's used to working nights and this is the middle of the day for him. I've no doubt he's listening to every word."

"No doubt," Rhade agreed. "But the fact remains that I must leave."

"And where will you go?" asked Elsa folding her arms as she felt the balance shift again.

"It doesn't matter." Rhade wouldn't meet her eyes, but she saw the look in them and the realisation dawned on her.

"You want to go and find somewhere to die," she whispered. "But, how can that be? Survival is everything."

"I do not want to go and find somewhere to die. That would be non-productive." Turning his face away from her, Rhade explained, "I have no blades. Without roots they will not regenerate. A Neitzchean without his or her blades is… isn't…" he stuttered to a halt and took a deep breath. "A Neitzchean without blades can never be an Alpha. Or even a Beta. It is almost unheard of that such a thing would happen, but it is… accepted, that such a mishap be rectified in a glorious death. An _early _glorious death."

Elsa raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you plan to do that here? No glory in this pit."

Rhade glared at her. "Vengeance. I shall take down those that did this to me."

Sighing, Elsa stood in front of the Neitzchean, drawing herself up to her full diminutive height. "And how will you get there when even my front door is a thousand miles away for you right now? I'll make you a deal," she said. "You teach Jason everything you can about his Neitzchean heritage and in exchange and I will help you towards your glorious death."

Rhade laughed without humour. "You drive a hard bargain old mother, and I am certain your words are double edged. But for now, I accept."

XXXXX

Dylan shook his aching head clear of the cobwebs. There was a lump above his right ear and when he touched it, his fingers came away sticky and red in the dim light that filtered through the rock fall.

He looked around and it only took a moment for him to spot Trance. She was just a few feet away, lying on her back, her face serene. Pulling himself over to Trance, he could not see whether she was still alive although with her unique physiology, 'dead' was a relative term.

Forcing himself not to worry, Dylan explored his surroundings. The glow coming through the fallen rocks came from one of the wall torches still alight just on the other side of the cave in.

He called for Barle, but there was no reply and, without knowing how long he was out for, had no way of knowing if Barle had abandoned them, or gone for help, or was even buried under the rocks.

He looked at the rocks speculatively and considered whether his heavy-worlder strength might get them out of there.

XXXXX

So the big question is," said Harper as he and Doyle made their way into the first of Althazar's vehicle repair shops, "does Althazar know where that coil came from?"

"Harper, we don't know that it came from his own son's ship," cautioned Doyle.

"I know that, but come on, coincidence, much? I mean it's not like the repo cops actually let people go around salvaging bits of their ships, you know."

"Well, let's find out shall we?" Doyle smiled evilly before leading the way inside.

"I love a woman that takes control," Harper sighed wistfully and followed her in.

Ten minutes later, Doyle stepped back out dusting herself off with Harper hot on her heels, his hands and pockets stuffed with bits of machinery that he thought could be useful.

"Unhelpful bunch of sub-humanoid guano masticators!" he called back to the occupants of the shop.

"I thought they were very helpful," countered Doyle. "We now know that the coil didn't come from here."

"True, but that does not make them helpful," Harper disagreed as he examined some of his finds. "I mean not one of them helped me find all these parts, I had to do all the work myself. As usual."

"That's called stealing, Harper." Doyle said.

"I call it liberation. After all, what use are these babies going to be to those brainless Neanderthals? They belong to someone who will use them for purposes over and beyond what they were designed for."

"Sure," said Doyle, noncommittally.

Harper rolled his eyes. "Come on, we've got a ways to go to get to the other place."

XXXXX

The following morning after breakfast, when emotions were less fraught than they'd been the night before, Rhade began to tell Jason about his Neitzchean heritage.

He explained about the survivalist culture. He went through the different Prides. He shared some of the key philosophies and laid out exactly how important it was to reproduce. He did not hold back, telling the boy how and why the Neitzcheans' were superior to all other races, how a half-breed could never be an Alpha and would never likely be acknowledged, as he did not have pure genes. And in a suspiciously flat voice, he explained that winning was everything and that to fail, was to become nothing.

Jason took it all in eagerly, asking questions here and there and considering everything Rhade said with much thought.

Rhade took pains to emphasise that he was only giving the boy an overview, barely scratching the surface of what it was to be Neitzchean, and Jason in turn assured Rhade that a basic understanding was all he needed.

Elsa of course disagreed; muttering about the boy needed a firm hand to guide him and chuckling when they both turned similarly petulant glares upon her.

XXXXX

Hands bleeding from the rough rocks, Dylan cursed Barle, Althazar, Rhade and anyone else he could think of for getting Trance and himself into this predicament. He was so focussed on tunnelling his way out, that he almost missed the supporting brace. The piece of wood that held the ceiling up, which would logically have snapped or perhaps slipped. Yet, it was nowhere near the point of support.

The only possibility was the one he already suspected; Barle had pushed the support out of the way. Presumably it had been set up at some unknown point in case of fire or some such disaster where it would be a quick job to save the rest of the mine. But Barle had put it to a much more murderous use. The only question was, why?

One more large rock hauled out of the way, and Dylan was free. He went back for Trance who lay exactly as he'd left her. He didn't even know if he could touch her, let alone carry her out of the mines and in any case, debated moving her in case of aggravating any injuries.

But, she had come back from the dead before, and did not seem to obey any of the normal rules of biology. Tentatively, he touched her neck and despite the fact that there were no signs of life, her skin was pleasantly warm to the touch. He lifted her in his arms, wincing as his blisters and abrasions scraped across cloth. The hot and heavy air in the mines increased the throbbing in his head, but by taking it slowly and steadily, he made it to the top.

It was there that he met Barle and some of his men making their way back down. Barle's face was a picture of surprise. "I, ah, I was just bringing a team to dig you out!" he exclaimed. "Such an unfortunate accident, I'm so sorry."

Dylan did not believe him for a moment, but he decided to go along with the pretence. "My friend is hurt," he said. "I have need of your medical facilities."

Barle's face broke into a genuine smile. "Of course, of course. We had an accident in the clinic, but if you'll excuse the mess, I'm sure we can help."

"I'm sure you can," Dylan murmured as he followed the other man.

XXXXX

When Jason went to work that evening, Rhade insisted on helping Elsa about the place. He was healing swiftly now that he was receiving proper care, his enhanced immune system having almost eradicated the infection, and while his arms still bore the wounds where his blades once were, they were basically sound, enabling him to do some of the lighter heavy work. When Elsa asked why he wanted to help his reply was that it was not to help her, but to ensure his own fitness did not suffer.

Elsa, for her part, used his strength to get chores done and listened quietly when he talked with Jason. She was pleased that her grandson was coming out of the quiet shell he'd been living in and felt that, through pure chance, she had found the right Neitzchean to teach him.

She knew very well that while it seemed that Rhade was sharing everything Neitzchean, he himself was not of the same culture that he spoke about. A real Neitzchean would not have allowed a kludge like her to speak to him as she did. A real Neitzchean may have demanded obedience, but would never have simply accepted help. A real Neitzchean was full of arrogant pride; Rhade was full of self-destructive anger. But from the point of view of Jason's education, that all gave the boy a more rounded view as to his father's people.

There were many more differences between this Neitzchean and those she'd encountered before, and the scientist in her was curious as to the reasons. She would find out sooner or later.

At that moment, Rhade was taking a break from reinforcing the back wall, standing and staring out at the sunset horizon. Elsa noticed him absently rubbing at the bandages on his arms.

"Have Jason look at those again," she told him. "You've been doing that a lot." He seemed startled by her presence and frowned at his arms.

"They just ache," he shrugged, "it's nothing." He paused, and then turned to look at her. "I'll be leaving soon."

"I'm surprised you stayed so long," Elsa replied.

Rhade smiled. "Only long enough to repay the debt."

"Jason has a lot to think about. I'd rather you stayed until he sorts it all out. I wouldn't want him doing something silly."

"Like what?"

"He's virtually a teenager," Elsa sighed. "He's wise for his years, but it all has to come out one day and the raging hormones of puberty could be… interesting."

"It'll be an… interesting… time for him in any case," Rhade told her. "And I have things to do."

"Like go and get yourself killed?" Elsa said sharply.

"Were you not listening when I explained it all?" Rhade shook his head. "There is no tolerance for failure."

Elsa thought she'd misheard. "You call having your bones involuntarily ripped out being a failure?"

Rhade laughed bitterly. "If I hadn't been dr… if I'd been as strong as I used to be, I would have been able to prevent that. I should have been able to prevent that. And it's just the last in a long line of failures."

"How so?"

Rhade looked at her, the pain in his face raw and she knew this was something the man had been carrying alone for far too long. Why he now chose to tell her was something she would never know, but perhaps it was because she had already seen him weak and therefore could not think any less of him.

"Once upon a time," he said, looking back at the setting sun, "I had a wife and I had three little children. There was an accident that I survived, and they did not. Later, there was another who chose me, who would have taken me as husband. She died in my arms. There was even someone when I first came to Seefra. She was murdered while I was held down and made to watch. Three times I have failed to protect those who would be my family."

Rhade raised his hands to each side of his head in a gesture symbolic of blocking the sound of screams. "I didn't – with no other Neitzcheans in this system, I couldn't see how to, how to thrive, but even in the darkest times I held on to the hope that those whom I had called friends before Seefra would provide escape back to the universe. And eventually one of them did come, but he couldn't escape this place any more than I, and I realised then that the one hope I'd carried had been a fallacy, that there was nothing for me here. And now, with these," he thrust his bladeless arms at Elsa, "even if I got back to Terazed, to the real universe, no Neitzchean woman will ever choose me. I, I am in my prime, yet these tell the universe that I am… emasculated." He spat the last word out with revolted vehemence.

"How about a plain human woman?" Elsa asked, expecting derision, but needing to know for Jason's sake.

"You don't understand," Rhade growled. "Unenhanced women cannot normally bear part Neitzchean children. That Jason was conceived is unusual, that he survived is a miracle. Not unheard of, but so rare as to be almost mythical. It ensures the purity of the genetic line, and the continuation of that line is paramount. Perhaps I could find love again, but if I cannot reproduce, then there is no point to my continued existence. I can only live in shame, or die with honour."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

"Well, I know we're in the right place now," Harper said as he examined a rotator unit with a repo corporation symbol stamped clearly inside it's rim.

"What are you doing!" a large man with too many muscles demanded as he stomped out from the back of the shop. "You can't help yourself!" he put himself between Harper and the unit with folded arms.

Harper was not going to be intimidated by a man twice his size. "Well, you seem to have something there that we're looking for, might belong to someone we know in fact, so, just to make sure, we want to know where it came from."

"And that would be none of your tiny little business. If you have a vehicle in need of repair, I'll do it. Otherwise get your nosy ass out of here before I kick it.

"Doyle!" Harper said quickly, "I think the gentleman would prefer your brand of sweet talking."

The man grinned slyly as Doyle sashayed closer. He never knew quite how close he came to having his illusions regarding buxom blonde's being shattered, because a new voice interrupted the proceedings. "Tell the people what they want to know, Leon."

Harper was taken aback to see Alec Althazar limp into the garage. "Yeah," the engineer said quickly, "like the man said, tell us what we want to know."

Leon paused for a long time, until Althazar threatened him with the sack. "No!" Leon said quickly. "We received word from the mines that a ship had crashed in their area. We, we salvaged for parts..."

"Quite so," Althazar agreed. "What did you find when you got there?"

"A repo ship," Leon said nervously. "It was a valid salvage, we got their first and if the repos wanted it they should have told us, we didn't make any secret that we were taking it."

Althazar chuckled. "It's all right Leon. I'm sure the repos would say you should have just given the ship to them, but that's politics and trade. You did nothing wrong. Thank you."

Leon grinned and relaxed, until Doyle asked, "So how badly was the ship damaged Leon? Was it a big crash?"

Frowning, Leon shook his head. "It was a bit odd, but we couldn't believe our luck. Shiny parts, you know? But, it wasn't damaged at all, it was parked up. Barle said it was a tough landing and the crew died in the mine's clinic, so we may as well claim it for salvage."

"Thank you Leon," Althazar dismissed the big man in a clipped voice. "I will deal with these two."

"We thought we might have found something of your son," Harper explained to Althazar.

"Really?" the older man said softly, a menacing look drawing down over his face.

"We were looking for an AWOL friend and you know how Dylan always likes to keep his word and he'd said we'd follow up if we found anything and we did so we were following up." Harper shuffled backwards as Althazar drew closer.

"I think… you might be right," Althazar stopped before him, and Harper could see the anger and grief laid out plainly on the older man's face. "I'm sure Barle had the best of intentions, trying to protect me from the knowledge of my son's death. He cares so much, treats the miners like his own family."

"Excuse me?" Doyle wore her puzzled expression. "Have you been out to the mines recently?"

"No," replied Althazar. "I can't travel so well these days" he indicated his gamy leg. "Bryal checks in with them when he can. Could. And so long as the accounts look good, why would I need to go there? Barle looks after everything for me."

"Well, I've been there recently, and your miners are worse off then slaves."

Althazar looked at her blankly. "I don't understand. The caves are perfect. The money saved by not having to build housing for them was put into lighting and setting up a community. With their pay-packets, the miners should be living like kings."

"Hm." Doyle tilted her head. "I think perhaps you should make a surprise inspection."

XXXXX

"Tell us about Terazed," Elsa said when silence replaced conversation. "You are not like most of the Neitzcheans I've had dealings with. In fact, you defy your own description of your people."

"Hah!" Rhade swallowed the foul but nutritious cactus juice that served as a drink. "As I understand it, it's the one place in all the universes where different races live in peace together regardless of whether they are Neitzchean, Than or otherwise. Neitzcheans know they are genetically superior, but that doesn't mean anything other than we can do things that those not as strong cannot. We rule together, we fight together."

"Sounds idyllic," said Elsa and Rhade snorted.

"We have our internal battles, but mostly politics, differences of opinion as to what is best for the people, the planet. We are not split by genetic structure, and survival is about the greater good, the integrity of Terazed. And no matter their heritage, there are no weak people on my homeworld."

"Surely there must be some," Elsa asked.

"No," Rhade smile perhaps the only genuine smile Elsa had seen from him. "Terazed is a paradise. No debilitating disease or weak genes even in the humans. You have to understand, that on Terazed we are brought up believing in the great leaders, those who fought for the old Commonwealth, regardless of their birth race. Neitzcheans were not always conquerors and bullies, otherwise there would not have been so many loyal to the old Commonwealth."

"You miss it," Jason spoke up, startling Rhade.

The Neitzchean tried to reply, but no sound came out and he swallowed hard. "No," he barked out suddenly. "That was another life, lost to me now, and well forgotten." But the conversation was over as he sprang to his feet and walked out into the night air.

"Jason," Elsa said, "Your bone blades are getting a little long. You should cut them back or someone will see."

The boy retrieved the knife he'd been using to pare the bones back since he was small. In fact, since the day she'd found him trying to dig the little bone protrusions out of his skin with one of her vegetable knives.

Today though, he sat with the knife in one hand, staring at the bones on the other arm for quite some time before putting the knife back unused.

XXXXX

The laboratory part of the clinic had the post disaster look of tidiness and cleanliness contrasting against a table held together with rope and bottles with broken necks carefully taped to keep what remained of their contents inside.

The infirmary section was small and quite warm with just four neat cots. One already contained what seemed to be an elderly man, clearly on his death bed.

Dylan thought he was ready for surprises, but he didn't expect the sudden and shocking surge of electricity as he bent to lay Trance down on one of the cots.

He heard Barle's startled voice, "Where did you get that, it's banned!"

Another voice, "We use it in town. We didn't think you'd mind."

"We'll discuss it later. For now, prepare him."

Jagged lightening seared Dylan's eyeballs, and his last thought before he passed out was that Trance looked for the entire world like she was smiling.

XXXXX

Jason found Rhade outside, tending to two of the guns Elsa used to keep wild dogs and unwanted guests away. "You really are leaving aren't you?" he said.

Rhade grunted slightly as an affirmation.

"Elsa's wrong isn't she?" Jason asked. "There are lots of things you could do. You don't have to die."

Rhade ran his hands through his hair and turned to look at Jason. "You just don't know when to shut up, do you?"

"I want to come with you."

"No."

"You're going to confront my father. If one of you is going to kill the other, I think I have the right to be there."

Rhade let out an angry breath. "You should stay here, hide away with your grandmother."

"I'm tired of hiding," Jason said softly, lifting his arms to show the Neitzchean. He'd cut back his sleeves to above the elbow and fashioned gauntlets roughly similar to the ones that lay discarded by Rhade's makeshift bed.

Rhade grabbed one of his arms and studied the gauntlet, paying particular attention to the leather around the base of the blades. With a growl Rhade let the arm drop and picked up one of the guns, cleaning a spot. Eventually, he said, "you'll need to reinforce the leather, build in collars for the blades so they don't rip out if you catch them badly."

"I will," whispered Jason, and watched the other man cleaning and inspecting the guns. Eventually the boy tentatively asked, "Rhade?"

A grunt was the only reply he received, so he forged ahead. "I don't want to be a Neitzchean," he said, and quickly rushed on as Rhade turned a questioning eye on him. "I mean, I don't want to hide, and I want to be strong, and if my father's blood can give me that then that's good, right? But, I… I don't want to be a warrior. I want to heal people, and there's a girl I like, and she's pure human. I think, anyway."

"In this universe, it sounds like a survival tactic to me," Rhade replied after a moment. "You have more Neitzchean in you than you give yourself credit for."

Jason grinned. "That's cool." The grin changed to a frown. "Rhade, I did something bad. It was accident, I promise, but…" the boy trailed off.

"Tell me," Rhade turned his full attention back to the boy, crossing his arms and looking sternly down. If someone had told him then that he looked exactly the way he did when one of his own children had done something wrong, he would have probably broken their neck.

"A long time ago, when I first got these," Jason fingered his blades. "I got in a fight with another kid..."

"Go on," Rhade told him.

'

"It was an accident, but my blades went through his neck." Jason blurted out. "I lied, I said we'd been attacked by wild dogs, and everyone was okay about it, but, but _I_ knew."

"And?"

"Well, Grandma had told me to hide them a bit before when they first showed, but I thought I was a freak and I didn't want to hurt anyone ever again."

Rhade shook his head. "I was wrong, you are not as Neitzchean as I thought. You have interesting times ahead of you." He turned back to the guns, holstering them in the waistband of his pants.

"You're not angry?"

Rhade laughed shortly. "No. In human terms, you've more than paid for what you did. In Neitzchean terms, you never did anything wrong. It was the other boy's fault that he wasn't strong enough to survive. I think you should consider the slate wiped clean."

Jason nodded. "What about you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"So far, you're the only Neitzchean that got to Seefra alive and stayed alive, you've got people who like you enough to come looking for you," at this, Rhade looked startled, "even Dylan Hunt is here, and everyone knows about him. If you were human, no one would say you failed."

"You're wrong, kid," Rhade laughed, "but you keep thinking good thoughts like that, and you'll be a great healer one day."

With that, he walked slowly away from Elsa's place and towards the caves.

XXXXX

Dylan came around slowly. He'd been stripped to the waist and tied to the cot on his side, facing the elderly man who was looking at him through bleeding eyes.

As his vision cleared, he couldn't think of anything to say and so tried to smile reassuringly while he figured out a way to get out of this place.

Given that no plan was leaping immediately to mind, it was fortunate that a welcome face chose that moment to make an appearance. Rhade squatted down in front of Dylan, with a very smug look on his face.

"So, Dylan," Rhade started, far too cheerfully. "Fancy finding you in a place like this. Now, the thing is, do you need rescuing, or should I just leave you to get on with it?"

"Um, rescuing would be good?" Dylan responded carefully. He felt a little off balance with the Neitzchean constantly since coming to Seefra.

"Mm," Rhade grunted. "See, the thing is, I have a little business to take care of, and I really don't think it would be, uh, a good idea, let's say, for you to be meddling in it."

Dylan tugged at the straps holding him. "Rhade," he growled threateningly.

"They're pretty tight," the Neitzchean said as a matter of fact. "Not even I could get out of those bindings."

"Rhade!" Dylan was losing patience now.

"Anyway," the other man scratched under his jaw with the tip of a gun while he appeared to think. "I think, yes," he reached into a pocket with his other hand and slipped a scalpel free. "If I cut this binding here, and this one here, if you work hard enough at it, you should be able to free yourself up sooner or later."

"Rhade! What are you doing?" Dylan shouted.

"Mm, let me see," Rhade flashed him a grin. "Maybe it's graduation day, or maybe it's just a good day to die."

Dylan looked at Rhade properly and saw that he wasn't drunk. "What do you – let me go!" Dylan called urgently, but Rhade casually saluted him with the gun and turned to walk away. There was something odd about the Neitzchean and it took him long moments after Rhade had left to work it out. The rags he wore for gauntlets showed no bone blades.

Dylan relaxed back on to the cot, cursing the Neitzchean for being a reckless, selfish, tunnel visioned idiot who should know better than to get himself into trouble without backup.

Noticing the elderly man staring at him, evidently awake for the first time since Dylan had been there, he said, "Sorry, just can't get the staff," as with sore fingers he started to explore the weakened bindings. The other man gave a soft rattling chuckle, and deciding to make conversation, Dylan asked, " So, how long have you been here?"

The answer, when it came, was nothing like he expected.

XXXXX

Barle felt as though everything was falling apart around him and he couldn't for the world of him think what he could have done to upset the Divine so. He should have had Hunt and the girl being milked by now, and the other body in the clinic destroyed.

The girl had been the first shock; she was literally too hot to touch and how she hadn't set fire to the blankets she lay on was anyone's guess, and just as he was trying to figure out what to do about her, word arrived from Leon's shop that Althazar was directly on his way, and Barle had panicked. Althazar never came here. Althazar couldn't be coming here. Althazar couldn't possibly know, could he?

With some effort, Barle pulled himself together and called for some of the miners; those who would protect him.

It was while he was awaiting those miners that a dark figure moved out of the shadows. At first, he had no idea who the man was who stood before him with such hatred in his eyes, only having the automatic thought that he would be a good candidate for the clinic.

That same thought triggered a memory and he looked at the man's arms wrapped in rags. Of course, the Neitzchean.

"I see you remember me," the dark man snarled. He had guns in his hand and pointed them both at Barle's head.

Barle felt his insides turn to water and tried to will his legs to run.

Two clicks, and the Neitzchean's face was as surprised as his own bladder. He made a break for the exit, but the other man was faster, tackling him to the ground.

At that moment, the miners he'd sent for arrived and pulled his attacker away. He crawled towards the tunnel that would lead the way elsewhere, and Jason was standing in his way. He saw the electro-magnetic stopper the boy held, and knew that to be the reason the Neitzchean's guns had failed. Did everyone ignore Barle's own tech ban?

Still, at times like this, he could almost believe the boy was his. He held out a hand for Jason to help him up, and the boy looked at him speculatively for a moment before holding out his own hand, and the pair of them made their way into the next chamber.

Barle was several steps down the corridor before it dawned on him that Jason's outstretched hand had come equipped with bone blades that he could swear the boy had never had before.

XXXXX

Dylan stared at the young man in the old man's body. Lan was virtually half his age yet malnutrition, drugs and atrophy had taken their toll and he look twice his age. That Lan was dying rapidly, was a given. Not even Andromeda would have held much chance of saving him.

But the gasping voice had given him enough information to know that he was dealing with what had to be at least three very angry men, not including himself, nor luding the slaves that ran the mines.

Althazar was going to be devastated when he arrived; his son had not been the angel the old man had thought he was and had died for it. Barle would be running scared very soon, if he wasn't already, with his scam about to be laid wide open and Rhade… well, he couldn't blame the Neitzchean for being intent on his personal vendetta, in fact was quite surprised that the other man had taken the time to stop by; no doubt Dylan was the backup plan to save his Neitzchean hide if needed.

But if Barle came out on top, then it would be Dylan's hide that would need saving. With no intention of going down the road that Lan, Bryal and Rhade had gone, he redoubled his efforts at getting free.

XXXXX

Rhade found himself under a pile of the skinny white miners, but revelled in the natural flow of adrenaline that gave him the strength to take them all on. If he'd had his blades, it would have been a bloody massacre, but his strength, anger and dogged determination were enough to lay them out groaning and unconscious on the cave floor. For the first time in forever, it seemed that his body was his to command. Without the fog and impaired reactions of constant alcohol, he felt reborn, flying with movements that came easily.

Ye he couldn't help but feel disappointed, wanting to both dish out and take far more of a beating than this. His eyes lit up as he spotted a man who had clearly acquired the taser aiming it at him, and charged. It would be a toss up as to who hit whom first, and Rhade laughed, acknowledging to himself that he sounded just a little insane.

He came back down with a bump when the man fell to the floor unconscious before that battle could commence. Dylan stood with a large rock in his hand and Rhade cursed him for spoiling his fun.

"Have you seen Trance?" Dylan asked, giving Rhade a hand up.

"No," Rhade replied., "she was with you?" he bent to pick up the fallen taser.

"She was on the cot next me," Dylan said as Rhade led the way through the other exit.

"Not when I was there," Rhade replied, eyes searching the way ahead as if expecting to be jumped at any second. "But you know Trance."

"Not as well as I'd like," Dylan admitted. "Rhade, stop a minute."

"No time," Rhade looked back at Dylan quickly, "I have a very important date."

"Rhade… Telemachus!" Dylan grabbed the Neitzchean's shoulder, halting the man mid-stride. "Please, just for a moment."

"What?" Rhade folded his arms defensively and unfolded them just as quickly as the constant dull ache gave a protesting twinge.

"Are you okay?" Dylan asked, his face open and honest as always, which in his current mood annoyed Rhade no end.

"Of course," he replied, "now if you're done?" He started to turn back on track, but Dylan caught his right arm, right over where his blades used to be, and Rhade let out an involuntary hiss of pain.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dylan's voice was soft, and if he'd looked Rhade was quite certain that he'd have that 'tell me, I'm concerned, and I'll make it all better' look about him.

Except Rhade knew that no matter how much Dylan might want to make it all better, he couldn't, so he snatched his arm away without looking at the older man. "You do what you like," he said flatly as he started walking away, "but let me do what I have to do."

"That's what I'm worried about," Dylan said, catching up to him. "I know something about Neitzcheans, remember? Gaheris – "

At this moment in time, that name was probably the worst thing Dylan could have uttered, and Rhade spun, lashing out with a lightning blow that sent Dylan flying into the wall. As Hunt blinked several times and propped himself up on one elbow, wiping at the blood flowing freely from nose and mouth, Rhade growled his anger and frustration. "I don't need a lecture from you," he snarled, "and I especially don't need to hear about my illustrious ancestor. I'm quite certain the great Gaheris Rhade would never have allowed himself to be de-bladed and would have taken the head of anyone who tried. Now just for _once_ stop meddling in things you really, really _don't_ understand." He turned on his heel before his temper made him do something Hunt would regret, and heard the other man pick himself up to follow at a distance.


	6. Chapter 6

In the communal cave, Barle stared at Jason, trying to come to terms with the bone blades that the boy was quite clearly displaying. He had always known that Jason wasn't his, and hated him for killing his beloved wife. But he looked so much like her, that he had been quite happy living a form of denial for the last decade.

But now this slap in the face, this undeniable proof that not only had his wife not loved him as he'd loved her, she'd lain with a Neitzch and produced a half-breed, and those thoughts took the very breath from his lungs. He didn't think he handle any more shocks today as his mind whirled out of kilter, incapable of settling on any one thought.

"Barle!" a horrified voice broke the silence and he spun to face Althazar alongside one of the girls he'd tried to take a few days ago, alongside a short man he'd never seen before.

Barle sharply gestured for Jason to get out, "I'll deal with you later you little bastard," he said. Turning back to Althazar, he put on his most obsequious and sincere expression. "Mr Althazar, sir, what brings you here so unexpectedly?"

"Surprise inspection," Althazar told him gruffly. "What have you done to all these people?" The sick wonder was clear in the older man's voice as he swept his arm out to indicate the general area.

Barle tried for denial, "I-I don't know what you mean, the miners? They're all happy and productive…"

"And sick and poor!" Althazar roared. "They're productive, I'll give you that, but they're all addicts! What have you been giving them?"

"N-nothing! You know what these kind of people are like!" Barle could see his private empire crumbling before him. "I'm sure they have their vices-"

"Liar!" a new voice hissed as an arm snaked around his neck, and he knew the Neitzchean had found him. With his attacker's other hand at the side of his neck, cold metal pressing there, he could feel the tension building in his neck and he knew the Neitzchean intended to either break it, or electrocute him.

"Rhade, no!" Yet another voice and the communal cave was becoming crowded. This one was Hunt, and the Neitzchean growled, but did not move.

The white shadows of miners started creeping in through the corridors, which gave Barle some hope. Give Hunt whatever he wanted and perhaps he'd call off the Neitzchean dog. Then he'd be able to call his miners to his aid.

Hunt continued to talk though as he moved into the cave. "Rhade, this man has to answer for his crimes! Let him go!"

Another growl and hot breath in his ear and the tension in Barle's neck became almost unbearable. "No!" snarled the Neitzchean, "By all means lay his crimes before him and see if he answers. But he will not leave this cavern alive."

To Barle's dismay, Hunt capitulated, "I guess that will have to do for the moment." Althazar started to say something but Hunt cut him off. "And as I believe I am in the best position to fill in the gaps, I will start."

"No, you-" Barle started, but the Neitzchean cut off his air.

"Tut-tut little _kludge_. It is not your turn to speak." And then he could breath again.

"You won't want to hear this, Mr Althazar," began Hunt, "but you should be aware that your son, Bryal, knew exactly what was happening here, and took his cut." He turned to address Barle. "What happened, did he get too greedy?"

"I- no," Barle sighed; he may as well tell the truth here, it had been after all an accident. "The other crewman always stayed in the shuttle. I don't allow technology here, you understand, so the repos have no reason to come here. Except for Bryal stopping by of course. Perhaps the crewman became suspicious, I don't know, but he followed Bryal in and saw the miners. We couldn't let him go and Bryal tried to persuade him that all was not as it seemed, but the crewman was so insistent on reporting what he'd seen, I had no choice, and I think he must have been Bryal's friend because then Bryal turned on me too, what could I do?"

The Neitzchean growled and Hunt made a non-committal noise before continuing. "And then you had another of Mr Althazar's own businesses take care of the shuttle for you. Were you trying to set him up?"

Barle swallowed hard. "It was the only way I knew to get rid of it. I didn't want the repos here looking."

"Who does?" chimed in Harper. "Anti-tech xenophobes."

"A cut of what?" Althazar was clearly not keeping up, shock written all over his face. "The mines are producing at a higher rate than predicted, I can't imagine –"

The blonde girl who had come in with Althazar interrupted him. "I can answer that. It's a variation on a very old scam."

"Beka?" Hunt indicated the floor and she stepped forward.

"See, you get your workers addicted on some cheap drug. Anything will do, so long as it's easy to get hold of and doesn't have side effects you can't explain off. You pay the workers with one hand and take it away with the other by selling the drug. Except in _his lordship's_ case, he's managed to create his own magic kingdom. I doubt the workers have ever seen a penny. They work and they get their fix, a bowl full of gruel twice a day and a mat to sleep on. They're so stoned they think they've got a good deal, and so afraid of having it taken away they'll do anything to protect the status quo."

At this the miners that were slowly creeping into the cave to listen started muttering in low tones. Barle thought there may be some hope after all.

"And _lord Barf_ here gets to keep the entire payroll when it comes in. Apart from paying off the odd son and heir of course."

There was nothing to say to that and the restrictive hold prevented Barle from shaking his head in negation, so he licked dry lips and tried to croak a denial but failed.

"As for the drug in question," Hunt picked up, "and what Mr Rhade over there is so upset about is that Lord Barle likes to acquire patients, with or without their consent, into his clinic in order to milk them of certain bodily fluids. Without going into detail and suffice it to say, those patients are literally milked to death, something of which Mr Rhade has first hand experience."

Barle felt the grip around his neck tighten.

"And if anyone is wondering as to the fate of Bryal and the crewman, who does in fact have a name and that would be Lan, they too suffered from that fate; Bryal some time ago and Lan only within the last hour."

There was a harsh sob, and Alec Althazar collapsed abruptly to his knees.

"So," growled the Neitzchean to Barle, "are you answering?"

Barle tried to say something, and looked desperately at the hollow eyed miners. "Help me!" he beseeched them. "If you don't, there will be no more R-"

"No! Rhade -!" Someone started to cry out but sharp edged metal cut Barle off mid-sentence as the taser was jammed into his mouth.

The Neitzchean whispered into his ear, urgent and passionate, but only half heard _"Come close to me and unfasten the irons life, for I am weary of dragging them… deliver me from my neighbours who looked upon me as a stranger… carry me from these multitudes who left me in the dark corner of oblivion because I do not bleed the weak as they do… Come and take me…"_

A click and the world turned to excruciating blue fire.

XXXXX

Dylan watched the crackling blue lightning surrounding Rhade and Barle, both men crying out their torment as the electricity flowed through neurons and synapses, stabbing muscles and ripping nerves apart. It was clear that the taser was on its highest setting; that Rhade had been aiming to kill. Dylan had known that the Neitzchean would find a way to take himself out too because, despite what Rhade had said, he knew from conversations with Gaheris how important bone blades were.

"Pretty fireworks," said Beka. "They're going to stop soon, right?"

"I have no idea," Dylan replied looking for a way to separate the two men or disable the taser, but nothing was to hand.

"I can stop this," a boy appeared next to Dylan. "But I don't know if it's the right thing to do."

"It's the right thing to do!" Dylan said urgently. "There are two lives at stake here."

"Lives are worth nothing if they're wasted," the boy said, a Neitzchean by the bone blades. He seemed mesmerised by the blue glowing pair vibrating in the centre of the cave. "Neither deserves to live."

"And who are you to make such a judgement?" asked Dylan. "Stop them. Now."

"The human part of me says that the human doesn't deserve to live for what he's done to others. The Neitzchean part of me says the Neitzchean doesn't deserve to live because he doesn't want to. Yet, the human part of me also says that to allow this when I can stop it is wrong, and the Neitzchean part of me says that if either is strong enough, he will survive in any case, and deservedly so. Which is the right answer?"

"The answer that feels right," an older woman appeared, her hands on the boy's shoulders. "You know Barle, and you know Rhade. What do you think is right?"

There was a long pause, and since the boy had all the angles figured out, Dylan wasn't sure what to say, but he tried. "Stop it, and if either survives, then they'll each still have the choice."

"Are you sure?" The boy looked ages old, and Dylan felt certain that the boy knew the answer to his own question, and it wasn't the one Dylan would have given. Nevertheless, the boy pulled the electro-magnetic disruptor from a pocket and pressed the button. Instantly the taser fizzled out and the two bodies dropped like rag dolls to the floor.

Dylan ran over, kneeling to feel for a pulse in each of the bodies. For Barle it was useless, his eyes wide and unseeing, bruised mouth slack in death. Rhade's skin was likewise cold and clammy, but there was a strong pulse at his throat and Dylan breathed a sigh of relief.

The boy knelt on the opposite side of Barle's body to Dylan and busied himself closing the man's eyes and folding his hands. Standing once more, the boy drew himself to his full, if diminutive height and commanded the scared and confused miners to prepare the body for a decent funeral pyre. The miners, although uncertain and hesitating, obeyed.

Rhade was trembling violently as Beka knelt behind him, supporting his head to stop it banging against the stone floor. "I wish Trance were here," she said.

"We have to find her," said Dylan urgently. "And soon. Do you think you and Harper could-?"

"Find who?" came a bright voice and Trance appeared at one of the entrances to the cave.

"Uh, you," Dylan ventured uncertainly.

Trance glided over to the group, pausing by Althazar. "It'll be all right, you know," she told the older man. "There are those here you can care for who won't betray you." And leaving the confused man behind, she looked at Barle and Rhade.

"I can't do anything for him," she said, pointing to Barle, "he's dead."

"So were you," remarked Dylan softly.

Trance laughed and shook her head, "No silly, I can't die yet, I'm not done." She peered over at Rhade. "He doesn't look very well."

"Can you help him?" asked Harper, "I mean I know you don't know what you knew, but maybe what you knew might come back to you if you, you know, like tried?"

Trance stared, and shrugged. "Um, no, I don't think so, it's not my place."

The old woman suddenly pushed her way in and kicked the shaking Rhade in the ribs. "Hey, Neitzch, you can get off your lazy ass any time now." There was no response and she leaned down to grab him by the chin. "Listen to me, boy. You can quit playing for sympathy, because I've run out. I fixed you once and I don't have the time or patience to fix you again, so either get off your ass or get it over with and die. Either way, make up your mind." She let go and slapped him, hard.

Rhade sat up suddenly with a gasp and looked around, fighting for breath with a slightly bewildered expression. "What – what, am I doing here?" he said, rubbing his forearms with a wince.

"Trying to get your Neitzchean butt fried," answered the old woman, "and I bet you never had Jason check those wounds again like I told you, did you? No." The old woman turned and left the group, muttering as she went. "Damned stubborn idiot, no respect for other people's work, no…"

"Damn, woman will you be silent!" Althazar roared to the still muttering woman.

"I will not!" she roared back and, suspecting a match made in hell, Dylan turned back to Rhade, who had leaned forward, away from Beka, and wasn't looking at any of them.

"Hey, missed you big guy," Harper said, punching Rhade's arm lightly.

"Right, whatever," the Neitzchean clambered to his feet with a groan. "I'm fine," he said with a sharp intake of breath, whilst shaking off Beka's hand.

"Okay," placated Dylan, not at all reassured, "we were worried about you."

"Well don't." Rhade stumbled the few steps towards Jason while Beka mouthed to Harper and Trance that perhaps they should Ixnay.

"I'm sorry," Rhade said to Jason, "I wasn't planning on being a walking reminder of your father's killer."

Jason smiled. "You're not," he said. "I'll never know my father, but I do know that Barle wasn't it. Not in blood nor spirit." Jason pulled at Rhade's right arm. "It's still paining you," he said. "Let me see."

Rhade stood quietly although the twitching muscle in his jaw belied his impatience, while Jason gently unwrapped his arm. The Neitzchean deliberately didn't look and allowed Jason to unwrap his left arm, and then hold both, inspecting them side by side.

Jason asked softly, "how good are the Neitzchean enhancements at regenerating bone blades?"

"I don't know," Rhade told him, rolling his head back to look at the ceiling, anywhere else but at another body or his arms. "I don't think anyone's ever lived long enough to find out."

"Rhade," as he let go of the older man's arms, Jason's voice was soft but firm. "I think you'll want these back."

After a moment, blinking quickly and clenching his jaw, Rhade saw his gauntlets in Jason's hand and looked down at his arms. The wounds were almost healed but for the livid red sore spots, three in each arm where the tiny white points of new bone blades were emerging from the newly healed skin.

FIN


End file.
